


Avangard history scholarship with a drop of good old linguistics monologue, please serve like a fine Irish tea

by Herodia



Category: Metal Gear
Genre: Aka Long and Boring Monologues, Disturbing Hate Cuddles, Dubcon Cuddling, Ground Zeroes Skull Face, M/M, Overly Dramatic Demonstration of Inner-Europe Racism and Post World War Wrongdoings, Philosophy, Political Incorrectness, Skull Face is his own warning, Tagged Rape/Non-con Due To Underage Content, Underage Kissing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-31
Updated: 2018-03-31
Packaged: 2019-04-15 02:14:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,022
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14149719
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Herodia/pseuds/Herodia
Summary: Skull Face takes his revenge on a child once again and gives Mantis a life long trauma.





	Avangard history scholarship with a drop of good old linguistics monologue, please serve like a fine Irish tea

The evil comes with humanity.

The desire of conflicts. 

The need of labeling the offender.

Little is worse than forcing sins of the country upon its citizen. 

Little is worse than making civilians pay for the crimes of their Big Brother, who watched over them as closely as upon the enemy.

It’s the last unspoken war crime. 

Letting sins of the father hunt the son.

When revenge fail to find the culprit, it takes a son.

The more extensive the conflict is, the less it matter if the debtor is a child of a man, or a nation.

The faceless man knew it well. He knew it first hand. But what is man to spread, when his genes are out of question? His behaviour spreads not only on his children, but on all that witness his actions. That is the man’s legacy. The memes we inherit, the behaviour we are taught, it’s all deep inside us. He was no exception.

Some things of these things are rooted deeper than other. Man doesn’t have to be a patriot, to share the ideals of his nation. The struggle to overcome the negatives of the past, it’s deep in himself. No matter where he goes or what language he uses.

And so is the hatred.

“The child, sir. We found his files.”

The boy was a tool. Nothing but another dull component of Sahelanthropus. He didn’t mind, really. As a human the boy was clearly broken, unable to communicate at the verbal level, but he worked just the way Skull Face needed him to and that was enough. 

It would be injustice to say he was special, that’s the word mother would use to describe her disabled child. He was extraordinary. He possessed powers other’s would dream of, but could not use them himself, he could as well be an advanced doll. But dolls have no souls, they are liveless and this boy could clearly understand what was happening around him, he just couldn’t do anything about it. Skull Face didn’t mind. In his eyes it was an improvement in a child, if anything. All he cared about younglings was that they were easy to train and required a little, alas they weren’t suitable in his brand of job, as they lacked the capability of fast lies and critical thinking.

He stared the information in the file the soldier brought him.  _ 1978 arrival to Petersburg, shipped from.. _   
“Czechoslovakia.” He murmured.   
Without further specification, he couldn’t label the boy precisely. As far as he knew, he could as well share nation with the boy. Europe was small and races did mix with their neighbours. Alas, something make him change his view of the boy after processing the information from his file. Maybe it was the shared history of their nations, or the association with slavic forces ruining his life, but now when he had the boy in his possession, he felt like he couldn’t just let go.

“A collaborant.”

It didn’t matter if he meant the nazis or soviets. Both hurt him, while the boy was warm and safe, or his parents were at that matter.   
“Come to me.” He beckoned the boy. Not that it was needed, he couldn’t resist the command of his mind.

The boy appeared next to where he was sitting, floating next to him, the long sleeves of his jacket brushing Skull Face’s shoulder.

“When I was your age they did terrible things to me. Worse than children should know.” He knocked the ground with his heel. ‘Come closer, don’t be afraid.”

The boy re-appeared before him.

“You know what russians did to my people?”

He laid his hand on the boy’s back, gently pushing him forward, until he floated above his thighs. There was no need to enforce the move, he came willingly on the command of Skull Face’s mind. If only everyone was so splendidly obedient as this boy was.

“Of course you are too young to remember. Not all of us had the privilege to be born into liberated world. Tell me boy, what are you? Are you Slovak? Czech? Hungarian? Or lost German even? If there are  any left in Czechoslovakia of course. You had a good time chasing them of the land, when their leaders were judged at Nürnberg for the same crimes upon civilians you were just processing.” He watched the boy closely. There was little he could say about him, when he only hardly saw his eyes, which were chronically sad and terrified. He had the eyes of someone whose life was rotten with misfortune and he never got used to it properly. Skull Face may have been the same once, but it was a long time ago.   
“It doesn’t matter to me what you are.” A manipulative lie. A bit wasteful on a confused kid. “Both you and me are considered the scum in the First World. We could have been the winners, but instead we lost. Except you didn’t pay the prize for the defeat, did you? You haven’t lived through the worst of what humanity can provide.”   
He touched the curls on the boy’s hair. They were soft.   
“You haven’t been there when they when they slaughtered the weak, nor when they came for the strong ones. They did that again and again, at the end it didn’t matter, who it was this time, just that it were your very comrades to invite them to our home.”

He lowered the boy until he was seated on his thighs. His skinny legs around his thigh.   
“They found out when you were born, but not the place.” He stroked the boy’s back.    
“Nineteen seventy, a nice number. It almost sounds like peace. Almost three decades after the war. Of course that is only for you.” He lead his hand down under the oversized jacket the boy was wearing. “In many cultures you are considered a man now.” He squeezed the tiny waist. It made the boy exhale sharply, the sound was amplified by his mask, but he didn’t flinch. There was something appealing on knowing how much power he had given to Skull Face, he couldn’t use himself.

“You are old enough to understand.” He laid his hand on the boy’s thighs. He could have grabbed them both with one hand, if they were shut together. Instead the bony knees were awkwardly spread around his thigh. He caressed one of them with a long stroke from the knee to the very top of his thigh. Even at the top, it could fit in his hand.   
“It’s obvious they did not feed you properly.” He pushed on the boy’s back, until his head was seated on his shoulder and his lips touched the boy’s ear. “You are all too tiny for even an adequate man.” He whispered before he pulled a bit back, letting the boy’s head fall and rest in on his collarbones. He smelled his hair. They reeked of smoke and hospital. He dug his fingers in the curls.   
“And all too pretty for your own good.” He said. “Pretty doesn’t play good on the battlefield. ” He let his lips slide over the hair to feel their softness.

“I know that better than most, I used to have such a pretty hair too, a long time ago.” His thumb caressed the boy’s inner thighs. “And a face too.” The leggings on the boy’s legs were thin, they could hardly protect him from russian winter. They weren’t eastern made either, he noted. Interesting.

“They took all of that from me.” His fingers met the straps of on the boy’s head.

“They wrote a nice big warning about not ever taking your mask off.” He rubbed the mask where the boy’s cheek should be. “Even used red pen for it. You should be grateful, they are hard to get behind the Wall last five years.”

He looked into the boy’s eyes as he undid the straps of his mask. His eyes always looked terrified, but this time Skull Face couldn’t help it but feel satisfaction from it. Slowly he undid the boy’s mask. Curious what he will see under.

His opened mouth was rimmed by cherry pink lips, the color so typical for young and rare for the old. It was opened in the annoying teeth-showing way, that children sometimes did, that made less patient people want to sew the lips together, just to get the child finally close them. Remarkably, someone already tried the procedure on that boy. Scars around his lips were deep and unhealed. They were so fascinating Skull Face might have missed the dark stain in the place where the tip of the boy’s nose was supposed to be. It was marked by cold. How stereotypical of Russia. 

“Then I thought to be the ugliest one, around.” He must have admit, he did not expect to see that. To be honest, he subconsciously expected the boy to be as pretty as his hair and eyes were. He would never imagine the boy could be so alike him. Of course he would never admit his mistake aloud and never go deeper in the similarities than the ones related to their appearance.

“They have done a lot work on you back in Russia, didn’t they?” The boy was trembling. Most likely a result of losing his only protection of the minds around him, but Skull Face liked to think it was because of him. The idea of superiority over this boy, brought him something he thought he have lost. It didn’t play much for his fantasy, when the boy’s hands tangled around his own head, the long sleeves of his jacked brushing on his knees. He leaned his forehead to Skull Face’s chest as if he wasn’t the very one him violating him.   
“You probably crave to hear that it doesn’t matter, that it will go away.” He grinned, Playing with the newfound scar around the boys head. It was older than the rest, considering it was fully healed and the hair around it very fully grown.   
“You would like to hear that looks don’t matter. That the scars will fade and the shame will disappear.”  He used force to lift the boy’s chin from where it pressed to his chest. He didn’t have to, he could have used the bond of their mind, but he wanted to.   
“Oh, it will not. You will be haunted by your face. By your differences. It will take everything from you. Your life, your choices and one day it will consume your name. Giving you an immortal reminder of what you are.”

He wasn’t sure the boy did fully understand his words, but the tears falling from his eyes were enough for him to tell he understood the meaning of his speech. One of the tears, heavier than the others, fell down the boy’s cheek before Skull Face caught it with his tongue. He let his tongue slide all the way up after the salt trace the tear left on the boy’s cheek. His trembling sped, but he didn’t pull away.

“You are lucky you know.” A soft kiss was places on the torn lips. “You can hide your imperfections behind your mask.” Their mouths were dry, Skull Face captured the boy’s bottom lip between his own. “After all, no one will notice from behind.” He whispered to the boy’s lips. He let his tongue trace the boy’s lips, slipping in just to meet with shut teeth. Skull Face didn’t mind, he took what he could, sliding his tongue around the teeth. Playfully pushing on them. They didn’t surrender, until the boy’s body went loose in Skull Face’s arms. Holding such a young body in his arms, unable to defend itself, might have been another man’s dream, but not Skull Face’s. It lacked demonstration of his power. Anyone could take a senseless one. Instead, he gave the boy one last squeeze and laid him on the ground. Appreciating the look for a moment more, before putting his mask back on. The boy will rise in no time and be his tool of war yet again.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Most of what Skull Face say is not correct. It's simply his point of view. When he does talk about the worst of humanity in the context of World War II, he strongly imply that it weren’t nazis, but Russians and those who they liberated. To give his speech a historical context Hungary was allied with the Third Reich and so was Slovakia, but consequences were worse for Hungary. (Of course this is still from Skull Face’s point of view. I’m not calling anyone Nazis here nor saying that there was no resistance on their side.)  
> I figured out Skull Face probably wouldn't care about the state of Czechoslovakia in the time, he would just assume they do the best. So I didn’t include any other historical context in his speech. Actually, at the time Mantis was born there was a [normalization](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Normalization_\(Czechoslovakia\)) period in Czechoslovakia, which could be as well compared to times after 1956 Hungarian Revolution.  
> If someone would be interested in writing Chico is Quiet fic with me, I would be grateful.


End file.
